


I'm not sexually attracted to silly putty I swear

by EAter



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Other, Plot What Plot, it just kinda happens, just dudes being bros, poorly discussed quasi xenosex, xenobiology is a mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAter/pseuds/EAter
Summary: In the grand scheme of things, Eddie knows jack shit about Venom, at least biologically speaking.





	I'm not sexually attracted to silly putty I swear

**Author's Note:**

> this is only about half as crack-fic as the title suggests i promise

In the grand scheme of things, Eddie knows jack shit about Venom, at least biologically speaking. The way Venom functions isn’t pivotal to their day to day lives. Venom isn’t the host body. As long as Eddie is healthy, Venom is healthy. That’s how they work.

 

So yeah, to Eddie, Venom is just a mysterious pile of black goop that sometimes manifests a face. He’s got an attitude and a personality and is pretty much always hungry, but that's the extent of it.That’s all he needs to know. 

 

He could ask, of course, he knows that, but he supposes he’s never had a good enough reason to, a specific enough question. He doesn’t know what kind of answer he’ll get if he just up and asks ‘Hey Venom, your whole like, existence. What's up with that?’ and he isn’t really sure he wants to know. Mostly because it might piss him off, or just confuse him, and Eddie doesn’t want to have to try to explain the root of his genuine curiosity, especially when he’s not all that pressed for answers in the first place. He’d be fine not knowing, really. Venom would tell him if something's wrong. 

 

But still. There are a few things he does know, and if he thinks about them too hard, sometimes he wonders. 

 

Like this, for instance. They’re just chilling on the couch, and Eddie’s paying a solid twenty percent attention to the low hum of the TV. He’s not wearing much, because it’s the dead of summer and the AC’s broke. Venom’s got some glob of himself out in open air, resting on Eddie’s belly. He’s functioning like a sort of cooling pad, which goes biologically unexplained, but is really fucking nice otherwise. 

 

He’s not gonna ask about it. He probably wouldn’t understand the explanation anyway, he never did great in science classes as a kid. 

 

But anyway. Venom. He’s got a texture like cornstarch and water- this weird sort of solid-liquid that compresses into a solid when you press into it and relaxes back into an almost liquid. Eddie’s pretty wholly occupied with prodding at Venom, who’s being a real good sport about it, mostly ignoring him in favor of the bullshit soap opera that’s on. He has half a mind to hope he’s not being annoying, but he’s not interested in the TV and Venom is interesting. It’s not often the symbiote leaves such a considerable amount of himself out in open air. Eddie digs his fingers in and pulls them out again, marveling at the absolute lack of residue leftover. 

 

Two hands in, Eddie’s willing to admit he’s actually an eight year old. Venom is fun slime and Eddie is having a great time fucking around. It’s nice. Relaxing. Twenty minutes later Eddie’s all loose, like he’d been getting a good massage, even though he’s definitely the one doing the massaging. Oh, the science of bodysharing. Wild.

 

**Eddie.**

 

Eddie stops, fingers freezing mid smush. “Yes?”

 

**What are you doing?**

 

“Um. I’m uh, playing. You know. With your… body? It’s an entertaining texture? Should I stop?” Eddie doesn’t actually know what he’s doing, and he hates that there's no way to phrase the action in a way that doesn’t sound terrible. He hasn’t moved his hands, but the substance has relaxed back to a semi-liquid state. 

 

**… No, go ahead. Dinner soon?**

 

Venom squirms a little before settling down again, attention back on the TV. Eddie’s submerged fingers experience the odd sensation of being confined briefly to a solid before being released again a second later. 

 

“Yeah, ‘course bud.” Carefully, Eddie removes his fingers and crosses his arms over his chest. Despite having permission, something about the acknowledgement makes it decidedly weirder. Venom wriggles a little. 

 

**Eddie? The thing?**

 

Well, if he’s being  _ asked _ . Eddie can assume if whatever he was doing resulted in his own relaxation, Venom probably felt the larger part of it. When Eddie starts up again, the sensation is more obvious. Like a gentle soothing sensation, concentrated in the places he knows get the most stiff. Clearly pleased, Venom begins to rumble, softly, something like a purr. Eddie digs into the soft body with his fingers, squeezing, rubbing, kneading. It… really does feel nice. Eddie feels his eyes drifting shut. It’s mindless, at this point, the way he threads his fingers through the fluid, compresses, releases. Cyclical. 

 

A sudden, nearly overwhelming bolt of arousal hits him then, and Eddie freezes, eyes snapping open. There’s a spot in there, it has no difference in texture, but it’s significantly warmer. Like a hot spot in a swimming pool. Eddie’s got two fingers right in the middle of it, and when he shifts to pull away, it hits again, forcing him to bite his tongue before something decidedly not suited for this situation tumbles out. 

 

“Um.” He wants to recoil, but somehow in the instant between Eddie thinking it and the action happening, strings of Venom had snapped around Eddie’s wrists, holding him perfectly still. “Wait-- buddy, maybe we should, uh-- talk about this?” This innocent bro-massage-time has turned innately sexual, and Eddie really shouldn’t have stuck his fingers into the body of a living being and not expected to find an erogenous zone, somehow.  He’s learned his lesson, okay. 

 

Venom shifts around his hands, thrumming with a sort of intangible tension. His body pulses around Eddie’s fingers and his hands clench reflexively in response, tightening up the liquid for an instant. Eddie’s expecting it this time when that feeling strikes him again, but he can’t bite back the choked up moan that slips between his clenched teeth. “Venom--”

 

**_Eddie_ ** **. Feels good. Keep going.**

 

Fuck, he’s right though. Eddie doesn’t know why he even bothers protesting at this point, Venom likes it, wants him to keep going. Nobody’s getting hurt. Venom’s watched him shit before, for fuck’s sake, maybe they haven’t broached the topic of masturbation just yet but it was bound to happen. What’s a little getting off between two organisms who share a body, anyway? It’s not like they have any concept of privacy. 

 

So Eddie takes the dive. He scoops that little warm place up in his fingers and kneads it real slow, real firm. Hot pleasure rolls down his spine, pools in his dick and yeah, he’s hard. He hasn’t jacked off in weeks, of course he’s hard. He rubs that spot firm and rhythmic and his toes curl, it feels so good. 

 

**Yessssss,** **_Eddie— don’t- stop—_ **

 

Venom’s voice curls in the back of his head, all sex roughed and desperate, and tendrils of black stretch out of the mass to twine around Eddie’s waist and thighs, their grip just short of too tight, scrambling for purchase.  _ Venom’ _ s getting off on this, enjoying what Eddie’s doing to him. And it’s not just because Eddie likes it, either. It's a complete reverse of their normal dynamic, and the knowledge that he can do something other than just exist for Venom, that he can make him feel good too… it’s a different kind of pleasure, one that curls warm in his chest. It makes him want to do more— to give everything he can. 

 

Eddie starts up a smooth little rhythm, Venom rippling and tightening around his fingers. A string of gibberish winds around his head as Venom tries to expresses his pleasure; he sounds so impossibly close to Eddie, in his ears and behind his eyes. 

 

**Eddie, yes, Edd— don’tstop** **_please Eddie_ ** **eddie**

 

And Fuck, Eddie’s always been a little weak for the vocal ones. Anne was like that too, mouth full of his name and how much she liked it, and apparently his dick isn't any less interested just because it's an alien symbiote literally talking in his head. He’ll have a crisis about this eventually, but right now he’s a little preoccupied. 

 

Venom’s close, or at least, he’s projecting the same teetering-on-the-edge feeling that Eddie gets when he’s about to cum, and Eddie’s stuck in a sort of horror-anticipation loop waiting to see how this is going to look— feel, anything. His mind is all fuzzy with Venom’s pleasure and his voice and Eddie’s own desperate need to finish it and touch his own dick or so-help-me god—

 

Venom seizes in his hands, voice breaking around not-words, and somewhere in the black goopy mess Eddie manages to get a hand around his dick.

 

He doesn’t even get through two strokes before he’s shooting off into his hand and collapsing back into the couch. His vision is blurry and his ears are ringing and he’s quivering with the aftershocks of what was effectively two orgasms right after one another. Venom is loose and liquid, pooled in the divots of his muscles and cradled in one cupped hand, rumbling gently. 

 

**Norepinephrine…  serotonin… oxytocin…  vasopressin… tasty, Eddie.**

 

“Pff, yeah bud. Feels good too.” There’s a calm stillness blanketing them, and Eddie figures he has four or five minutes to enjoy the afterglow before the inevitable oh-god-what-did-i-just-do panic strikes.

 


End file.
